Virtus Immolatius, or The Sorting Hat Recants a Sorting
by anathi
Summary: Hagrid's effort to console Snape after he hears Snape and Dumbledore's argument in the Forbidden Forest has far-reaching implications. Will the Trio be able to figure out what happened before it's too late? A Deathy Hallows story.
1. Prologue

The body of the Muggle lay grotesque in the barren field, remnant of another sickening night of Death Eater folly.

"Now. Should any one of my own dare defy me…" Voldemort prowled around and the cackles of the Death Eaters died down. "Know that he awaits a fate much worse than that of this Muggle. I," Voldemort said as he raised his arms, "am developing a new curse that I will be quite…eager to use.

"In the meantime, let me leave you with this little reminder not to fail me…_Crucio!_"

**sSs****SsSs**

Snape opened his eyes with the feeling of cold, damp earth beneath him. The ghostly aches of the cruciatus curse cleared his momentary confusion as to why he found himself alone in the middle of a neglected field. Staring up at the darkness of the night sky yielding to indigo, he was reminded of the things to come that would be much worse than last night's Death Eater meeting. Snape jerked into a sitting position, immediately regretting it. Easing to his feet, he mustered enough energy to apparate.

**sSs****SsSs**

Snape collapsed to his knees upon landing near the edge of the Forbidden Forest, instinctively glancing around to make sure no one saw him in such a pathetic state. Of course, no one should be roaming through the forest at this miserable hour. He regretted looking around, though, for the argument he had with Albus in that very spot two days prior sprung to his mind, and his heart constricted upon recalling the deplorable revelation Albus made that same evening about the Potter boy's fate. He huffed as he struggled to stand. He had to come up with an alternative.

Grasping a rough tree trunk, he made to get up and out of there as quickly as possible. The sound of the magical creatures busy with their morning activities felt too much like his Muggle primary school teacher screeching chalk on the blackboard. Then a noise akin to a giant storming through the forest assaulted him. His perception proved correct as the half-giant Hagrid emerged through the trees, whistling at a level of exuberance that left Dumbledore's twinkling eyes wanting.

"Top o' the mornin' ter yeh—" Hagrid started, then his eyes widened as he took in Snape's appearance.

"'fessor Snape, what 'append ter yeh?" Hagrid hustled over, cracking not-too-small branches beneath his feet. "Don't tell me yeh gone ter one of 'em awful meetings again."

Seeing Hagrid's enormous arms descending upon him, Snape swiped his hand through the air.

"I'm perfectly capable of getting my own person to the castle," Snape rasped and then quickly cleared his throat, hastening to stand upright.

"Oh don' be silly, Professor. Lemme getcha inside for some breakfast so yeh can regain yer strength."

Too weak to resist, Snape found himself being hoisted over to the hut. Had it been anyone else but Hagrid, Snape would have cursed him to oblivion, but he was loath to admit the hut seemed quite welcoming on this bitter cold and onerous morning.

He looked up at Hagrid, who still had too much zest in his stride, and envied his ignorance of what was to come. On second thought, that wasn't quite fair; any glimmer of hope in Hagrid's eyes was sure to be extinguished by the events to come. As much as Snape himself was content at being a cynic, he couldn't help but think Hogwarts would cease to feel like home should the rest of the staff and students be engulfed in despair.

A thud brought him out of his brooding and Snape found himself at the table with a plate of rock cake in front of him. He let out a groan, which Hagrid must have mistaken for pain.

"Can I get yeh summat else, Sev'rus? Yeh mus' be hurtin' a lot…"

Upon hearing his given name, Snape looked up into Hagrid's eyes and took in the rare shimmer of compassion directed at him. A twinge of sorrow struck him as he realized those eyes, and those of the rest of the staff, would soon look upon him with nothing but hatred and revulsion.

Hagrid must have figured Snape wasn't going to say anything, and busied himself with pouring tea in the corner of the kitchen. He came over and plunked two giant mugs on the table, oblivious to the hot water sloshing over and soaking the wood. Snape withdrew his hands from the table just in time.

"Yeh know, times like these..." Hagrid trailed off as he added generous lumps of sugar to the mugs. "Hard times, they are…" He seemed to be watching something out the window, rather than the cups to which he was adding cubes with abandon, and Snape wanted to snatch the sugar bowl from him.

"Sev'rus, I've known yeh since yeh was a laddie."

Snape surpressed a jolt as Hagrid faced him and plumped down on a chair.

"An' I know you've been through a lot…"

Where Hagrid was going with this, Snape could not fathom, but Hagrid broke eye contact without elaborating and began engrossing himself with the spoon, stirring the tea in hypnotic circles. The stirring picked up the pace and Snape was ready to swat the mug out of Hagrid's hand—never mind the mess, but then thought it'd be better to take advantage of Hagrid's preoccupation and attempt an escape. But something in Hagrid's tone when he spoke next induced Snape to stay.

"Whenever I get—when I have trouble with the Giants…it helps me to think of the 'eroes before us. Whether they died or survived, they sacrificed what was most dear to them." Hagrid had grabbed a rock cake and was breaking off small pieces. He looked nervous, or maybe frustrated or distressed, Snape couldn't tell. There was only one person's sacrifice other than his own—and now Potter's—that he had ever dedicated thought to. That was about all the dwelling on sacrifice he could bear.

"This war's gonna take big sacrifices, I know it. Jus' like the firs' war…"

Snape stared as Hagrid passed him the plate of now crumbled rock cake, wondering if Hagrid thought the substance would transmit his resolve. Snape was not one to accept sympathy, and by no means was he about to start wallowing in the past, certainly not in front of another sentient being. Yet Hagrid continued with all his zeal.

"But it's our very willingness to make these sacrifices that counts, innit? It's what we've got that the bad guys don't 'ave. An' it's why You-Know-Who went down the firs' time. I'll be dammed if these sacrifices—"

Snape grasped the table and rose, staring into Hagrid's eyes as if he were reading in them all the answers to the impending tragedy.

"What—what is it, Professor?"

But without an answer, Snape lurched out of the hut, his pain evidently forgotten.


	2. The price of distrust, Part I

A/N: Lines of dialogue in _italics_ are taken from _The Deathly Hallows, _with some elements are taken from the books, others from the film_. _Because events are unfolding in a different way, you may find at times characters say some of the same things they said in the novel, but in different contexts.

**The price of distrust, Part I**

_The path I've walked is soaked in blood,_

_Barely I escape the slashing of claws._

_The path before me, bathed in tears,_

_Narrowly I escape the snapping of jaws._

_Those I once led just stare and jeer._

_Those I revered just glare and sneer._

**SsSsSsSs**

_Nightfall, May 1, 1998_

Snape watched the indigo sky above the castle grounds as it fell to darkness. There was a feeling of finality in the way the brightness died, as if the sun would cease to rise.

No, he would not permit himself to contemplate failure. A breeze blew by and the hairs stood on the back of his neck. His eyes stung as he seemed to hear the sweet voice of Lily singing a lullaby. For that moment of solace, however imagined or construed, he was grateful.

Then a burning erupted on his left forearm. Of course, not a moment's peace. Yet the sensation lacked its usual pull. Not a summons. That meant Harry Potter had been spotted and would soon be coming to Hogwarts.

Snape whipped around and reentered the Headmaster's office. Striding over to the desk, he whipped out a piece of parchment and scrawled a message on it. He paused, tilting his head back and forth, and scribbled the rest of the words. That would have to do; there was no time for eloquence.

"What's that you're working on?"

Nosey old coot.

"Not for you to know." Snape was not about to gamble away his final move and last piece with the chess master. Even from that portrait Dumbledore would manage to pull his puppet strings.

"Harry's on his way." It wasn't a question. Dumbledore had also somehow maintained his semblance of omniscience even in death. "You must find a way to tell him—"

"I've got it under control," Snape barked as he stuffed the scroll into his sleeve. He then approached the pensive and cast an intricate series of spells.

"Need I say, Severus, if there's any doubt that you—

_Silencio._ Snape whipped around and with a jab and tap of his wand, Dumbledore's portrait was no longer to be seen or heard, and fortunately not able to see his face flush; the headmaster had still held his respect somehow. But he would not regret his actions, for it was nothing compared to what Albus had done to him, and he couldn't risk the old man meddling in his plan, not now that the end was near.

Gathering his robes, Snape grabbed the Sorting Hat by the tip and it let out a yelp. "Easy there!"

Snape just looked at it and strode to the door. Hand on the doorknob, Snape paused for one final look around the office, then snapped it shut. He had to determine a place to meet Harry Potter. With a grimace, he decided to try the Gryffindor Tower, glad at least that the students should be in bed at that hour.

As he strode through the halls, an assortment of memories—from walking with Lily to apprehending Potter in his nighttime escapades to the night he escaped after killing the headmaster—arose. And now, his most recent memories were of nothing but fearful students marching and close calls with the Carrows and glares from the other staff.

When he rounded the corner, his heart stopped as he saw Minerva coming his way. It was extremely uncomfortable being around her now, but there was no turning back. Perhaps he could make the most of this encounter.

"_I didn't know it was your night to patrol the corridors, Minerva."_

Minerva stopped, leaving quite a bit of space between herself and Severus. She looked like she wanted to get the conversation over as quickly as possible.

"_You have some objection?"_

"_I wonder what could have brought you out of your bed at this late hour." _Was she out just to protect students or had she somehow heard of Potter's arrival in Hogsmead?

"I suppose you'll be taking points? A Gryffindor out of her bed…"

"This isn't about stupid house points!" He wished he could make her understand.

"Oh? And I suppose you're the authority on inter-house tolerance these days?"

He knew he should retaliate to keep up his image, but he couldn't take his mind off the sense of urgency churning in his stomach.

"Are you aware of Harry Potter's whereabouts, Minerva? _Because if you have, I must insist—"_

"No," she said, eyes wide. She turned and started heading back to where she came from.

"Minerva…" Severus' heart thudded as he waited to see if she'd turn around. She did, and he looked into her eyes, perhaps searching for something, anything but fear, scorn, or worst of all, disappointment. Knowing he would unlikely ever get the opportunity to regain her trust felt perhaps even more painful than having lost it in the first place. "Tell the ones—" Snape clenched his jaw and shook his head.

Minerva waited a second with her eyebrow raised, and then, seemingly giving up on him, turned down the hall.

"All-school meeting in the Great Hall in thirty minutes," he called out.

**SsSsSsSs**

Gasps and whispers. The energy of the crowd had gone from sullen to volatile, and suddenly Harry Potter was in front of him. How could Harry Potter reveal himself in front of the whole school, with two real Death Eaters flanked on each side? The scene swayed before Severus as his heart pounded so intensely he was sure all could hear it, yet he kept his face stone still.

"_It seems despite your exhaustive defensive strategies, you still have a bit of a security problem, Headmaster." _The title couldn't have been said with more loathing, though he deserved ever bit of it. The doors to the hall swung open as the Order stepped in. _"And I'm afraid it's quite extensive."_ How could he speak to Potter with all these eyes on them?

"_How dare you stand where he stood. Tell them how it happened that night! How you looked him in the eye, a man who trusted you, and killed him!" _The boy who had lost everything yelled at him; the boy whom he told life wasn't fair. The one from whom he'd taken his closest mentor; the boy he was supposed to protect. Who he may or may not succeed in protecting. It was now or never. He looked to where he'd placed the Sorting Hat on the platform behind him; it was one meter away.

As Snape made a move toward the hat, Minerva stepped forward, brandishing her wand and pushing Potter aside. She cast a spell with such force he barley blocked it, stumbling backward into the steps. Curses came in rapid succession as he fought to block them. As Minerva drew fire from the torches, the room darkened.

_Traitor! Murderer! _The crowed hollered and jeered, like roaring lions, they mocked and they scorned. Shielding the curses in haste, Snape was forced to step back again and again._Dishonor! Disgrace! _The Order made it's way down the aisle, moving up behind Minerva, and Snape was nearly backed against the window. He knew he was out of time.

The next burst of fire that shot towards him he deflected towards the Carrows without a chance to confirm whether he'd hit his mark or not. He then made his move to switch the hat out with the scroll.

_Expelliarmus!_

Snape's wand flew out of his hand and soared through the air into Minerva's hand. The crowd erupted in cheers. Snape twisted and leapt through the window and heard Minerva's one last cry, _Coward, COWARD! _rising over the breaking glass.

**HpHpHpHp**

Professor McGonagall restored the light to the torches. Snape was gone! But Harry's feeling of elation ended when a sharp pain struck his scar, bringing him to the ground.

"_Harry, Harry!"_ Minerva reached out to him, crouching by his side. Thunder crashed in the sky and screams rose from the crowd as an awful hissing filled the room.

"_I know that many of you will want to fight. Some of you may even think that to fight is wise. but this is folly. Give me Harry Potter. Do thissss and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter and I shall leave Hogwarts untouched. Give me Harry Potter and you will be rewarded. You have one hour."_

"_What are you waiting for? Someone grab him!"_

The scene was so chaotic, Harry thought for a moment the crowd would turn on him, but soon he was surrounded by his friends and Professor McGonagall had the Slytherins escorted away.

"_I presume you have a reason for returning, Potter. What is it you need?"McGonagall asked._

"_Time, professor, as much as you can get me."_

"_Do what you have to do. I'll secure the castle."_

Harry nodded and turned to leave.

"Potter," she called after him. "Nice job taking out the Carrows." she gestured to the two fallen bodies.

"The Carrows? Those two Death Eaters? I thought you took them out, Professor."

Professor McGonnagal scrunched her eyebrows. "I didn't".

"One of the Order members, then." Harry said.

"Surely, Mr. Potter." Her brows still knitted, she twirled a black wand in her hand—Snape's wand. Harry thought it funny Snape failed to defend himself against a simple_Expelliarmus _since it had been him who taught it to them in the Duelling Club.

Harry pressed his lips together and nodded, but just before he left, he asked "What about the Sorting Hat?"

"I don't know, Harry. Right now, there's not much we can do about it. But perhaps," McGonagall sighed, "perhaps it's for the best, with all the mess house rivalry has caused…and I don't see how Snape could make any use of it, with the hat having belonged to Godric Gryffondor himself."

Harry grinned and nodded. The hat would certainly not serve Snape as it did Harry when he was in need. _Only a true Gryffindor…_ Professor Dumbledore had said.

Harry looked over to the spot where that hat had been, and noticing something lay in its place, he headed over. It looked like a bit of parchment.

"Harry!" Hermione and Ron called out as they hurried toward him. "What happened, are you okay?" Hermione's eyes searching Harry's face.

"I'm fine. Snape was sacked."

"Awesome," Ron said. "What's that you got there, Harry?"

"I don't know, a spare bit of parchment. It was under the Sorting Hat—which Snape swiped."

"That bastard!" Ron slammed the table.

"What would he want with that?" Hermione said.

"Who knows, but he can't be up to any good," Ron said.

"Well—and Professer McGonagall agreed—whatever creepy business he's trying to pull isn't going to work because the Hat will only aid someone with the courage and honor of a true Gryffindor."

"—and Snape's anything but," Ron said.

As Harry and Ron were carrying on, Hermione took the parchment and turned it in her hand. _"Aparecium". _

Nothing happened at first. Then the letters _HP_ formed on the page.

"HP…Harry, do you think…? You try."

"_Aparecium,"_ Harry incanted as he tapped the parchment. A spidery script unfolded and Hermione began to read it aloud.

_They won't do you good,_

_those silly lemon drops;_

_my wings shall remain closed,_

_if you dare try acid pops._

_Immortal twin of Wormwood,_

_Persephone's sacred flower,_

_is what you need propose_

_for access to this tower._

The parchment then burst into flames and disintegrated, its glowing ashes gliding to the floor.


	3. The price of distrust, Part II

The price of distrust, Part II

**HpHpHpHp **

"What was that?"

"Sounds like a riddle of some sort...

"Acid pops and lemon drops…wings…it must be the password to the headmaster's office!" Hermione looked gleeful at her deduction.

"Well, what is it?" Ron looked at Hermione.

"I think—" Hermione started, but Harry beat her to it.

"Asphodel. Draught of Living Death—I don't think I'll ever forget that potion, really."

Hermione had a strange expression on her face and Harry could see she was working something out, but he didn't have time to contemplate the why or how.

"Don't do it, Harry." Hermione must have seen the determination in Harry's eyes.

"She's right. It's a trap."

"Snape _abandoned_ his post, guys. That coward, he abandoned the castle. It's surely not to let him back—"

"You don't know what's waiting for you there," Hermione said.

"This is Hogwarts. No place is safer…" Harry justified.

"Harry, you of all people—"

"We're going together, then," Ron said.

"No. You two need to destroy the cup," Harry said.

"And you need to find the Ravenclaw object—if it's even a Ravenclaw item we're looking for."

"I'm positive about that. Anyway, there might be a clue in the Headmaster's office…_Dumbledore's portrait. _I have to try! Meet you back here in a bit."

"Harry, no!"

"Destroy the cup!" Harry shouted as he ran out of the hall.

**HpHpHpHp**

"Here goes…" Harry stopped to catch his breath as he reached the gargoyle on the third floor.  
"Asphodel."

The gargoyle's wings began to rotate. Harry whipped his palms on his robe as he ascended the staircase. Upon entering, Harry nearly fell as he stumbled into a mound of tattered books. The room was dark, but a single lit torch cast a low light, and a few book titles caught Harry's eye. _Lost Spells of Times Past (and the Attempts to Find Them); The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts; A History of the Unforgivables… _Harry shuddered. Who knew what evildoing Snape had been up to.

Harry looked around and was struck by the pang of grief he felt from seeing the familiar place. The last words Dumbledore spoke to him came to mind. _Trust me. Trust me._ What a tragedy. Dumbledore was so keen on trust it lead him to his death. Harry walked towards the spot where he remembered seeing Dumbledore's portrait, but the wall was blank. How dare Snape remove his portrait,_ how dare he!_

"You may wish to try a counterspell…" a dull voice came from one of the portraits and Harry realized he must have said that last part aloud.

"Blast you!" Phineas Nigellus jumped in, "The Headmaster was certain to have a reason for doing it. He bloody well had the right."

Not deterred by the portraits' bickering, Harry jumped to the task of uncovering Dumbledore's portrait. "_Finite incantatum", _he said and to his relief, the portrait appeared.

"Headmaster!" Harry said, quickly regretting using that title. "Sir."

"Harry." Dumbledore's eyes maintained their twinkle even in portrait. "I must say, I'm quite relieved to see you here."

"Why did you trust him?" Harry blurted out. "Why? We could've—"

Dumbledore held up his hand. _"Do not pity the dead, Harry, _but take strength in the living, and especially those that still live with love."

Harry swallowed. He felt he needed to ask Dumbledore something, that there was some additional information that he would need for the final confrontation with Voldemort. But for some reason he found himself looking around the office, instead. Harry noticed not much had changed. The Sorting Hat, of course, was missing. And Fawkes perch was empty. He wondered what might have become of the phoenix. He then noticed pensine was out of its closet, so he headed over to it.

"I'd be careful if I were you. Headmaster Snape did not disclose with me the contents of the pensine."

Shaking off the bitter flashback of the last time he delved into Snape's memories, Harry looked between the portrait and the pensine as a little war between mistrust and curiosity took place in his mind. But before he could make a decision, Dumbledore spoke, his voice so quiet it scared him.

"Harry, there's something I must tell you. Something, I think, you may have even suspected…"

Harry looked at the portrait and was taken aback by the amount of compassion and regret conveyed in the painted eyes.

"_Once again, I must ask too much of you…"_

**SsSsSsSsSs**

Returning from ascertaining the Dark Lord's location, Snape rushed to beat him back to Hogwarts. As he approached the grounds, he saw a bluish white glow hovering over the castle in the distance, a glow that was seeping through the night sky, casting the clouds in a ghostly white. _Protego Maxima, Finato Duri, Repello Inimicum. _Dumbledore had spent much time teaching the Order that spell. Breaking into a sprint, Snape twisted and leapt into flight. If he didn't make it to the castle before the shield was set, there was no way he'd get through. He heaved through the air, but he could see the shield was coming down fast. Trying to propel himself forward, he gasped as a gust air shot into his lungs. The shield was now almost to the ground. His muscles burned from exertion, but he gave one last push. He wasn't going to make it.

He managed to halt his flight just as the shield met the ground. His cape swung forward with the momentum and the tail of it singed as it made contact with the shield. With a howl, Snape swung his leg and kicked the ground, then whipped around and receded into the shadows of the Forbidden Forest. There was nothing he could do but wait for the Dark Lord and hope that Harry found the pensine before Dumbledore's portrait.


	4. The sorting hat recants

Author's Chapter Notes:

1. Imagine that Voldemort had figured out that Harry was the true master of the Elder Wand.  
2. The Harry-Voldemort encounter is accelerated, so the Battle of Hogwarts doesn't take place.

* * *

**The Sorting Hat Recants**

'Sometimes I think we sort too soon…'

-Albus Dumbledore (_Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows)_

* * *

The hallway seemed endless. Harry walked without delay, knowing that there'd be no way to change fate. As soon as Dumbledore's portrait had finished telling him about the final horcrux, Harry had headed out of the office without a glance behind. He couldn't bear to stop and think about what he must do. He didn't need to ask for directions, for the pain of Voldemort's presence stabbing his forehead was acting like a tide under a full-moon.

All too soon, the seemingly infinite hallway came to an abrupt end as Harry was faced with the doors to the Great Hall towering over him. Harry lifted his hand to open the doors but before he could make contact, they swung open. Across the empty space of the Great Hall stood Voldemort, directly below the gaping bat-shaped hole in the window Snape had left behind. Harry was almost hypnotized by the ripples in Voldemort's cape, which seemed to blow far too violently for the amount of wind that should be able to enter through the shattered window. Nagini, covered in a blue glow, swirled around Voldemort and hissed.

"Harry!" came a shout from the right side of the room. It took him a moment to notice the crowds standing on both sides of the room: Order members and those loyal on the right, Death Eaters on the left. He could see thick shields preventing either side from passing into the center aisle, leaving Harry alone with the Dark Lord.

Harry caught Ron's eyes and looked away. He couldn't bear to see the expression on his friend's face. Not now. Instead, he proceeded towards Voldemort.

_"Harry Potter, the boy who lived, come to die."_

As he walked forward, Harry wanted to wipe the wicked smile off Voldemort's face; hopefully, someone would do it once Voldemort was killed. Once Voldemort killed him. But suddenly the expression on Voldemort's face changed and the evil wizard appeared to be looking at something behind Harry. There was a commotion from both sides of the room and Harry was compelled to turn around.

Snape stood at the entrance to the Great Hall. He was in his usual black robes, but he looked different, oddly juvenile, for the Sorting Hat was sitting on his head. In any other situation it would have been comical. Harry could imagine a young Snape sitting on the stool for his sorting, the hat shouting _Slytherin! _before it touched his head. Yet the hat wasn't shouting; it was just sitting there, firmly on his head.

Snape marched forward with his expression as still as stone, eyes transfixed on Voldemort. He strode by Harry as if not even seeing him, and came to a stop in front of Voldemort. The tension was palpable as the two crowds waited to see what would transpire. Harry bet that Snape would need a very good reason for interrupting Voldemort's plan, and Nagini's continued swirling seemed to echo Voldemort's impatience. In one swoop, Snape removed the hat, bowed and got down on one knee.

"My Lord." There were snickers and jeers from the right, but Snape paid no attention. He reached into the hat and there was a flash of silver. The Sword of Gryffidor! Pulling it out, Snape held it before Voldemort. "I present you—a gift."

Whispers of concern came from Harry's right.

"Don't worry," said a Weasley twin, "Whatever they're planning, it will backfire. Only a true Gryffindor can use the Sword."

There was laughter. "I'd like to see a Slytherin try to—"

Suddenly an animalistic scream filled the room. Snape had plunged the Sword into Nagini and was fighting to hold his ground, gripping the Sword with two hands as the snake thrashed around.

Voldemort cast a curse on Snape but there was a flash of light and some sort of explosion and the Dark Lord was thrown backwards, emitting a strangled scream.

Nagini snapped her jaw towards Snape's arm and tore off a chunk of black fabric. Her red eyes flashed as she hissed and snapped again, this time drawing blood.

Voldemort regained his balance and cast another curse, which also backfired.

The snake attacked with her tail, knocking Snape to his knees, but Snape held the Sword in place.

Voldemort produced a sword of his own and raised it over his head.

Knowing time was up, Snape twisted the Sword as deep as it could go, releasing his right arm just as Voldemort brought the sword down, slashing off Snape's left arm. Snape let out a strangled cry and Sword of Gryffondor fell as Nagini slumped to the ground, twitching for a moment and then falling still.

"Nooo!" Voldemort hunched over Nagini and yanked out the Sword of Gryffondor out. Raising the sword above his head, Voldemort whipped his head around to face Snape, who had fallen backwards and was trying to catch his breath. As he brought it down over Snape, the Sword flashed a brilliant crimson and Voldemort was sent flying backwards yet again, the Sword clanking to the ground. He shrieked and held his burning hands in front of his eyes.

"You will pay for this, you traitor! Son of a muggle! You…that mudblood! I should've known!" Voldemort rasped as he rose and approached Snape again, calling his wand to his hand. "But I don't have time for endless torture right now. And death would be much to kind for you. No," Voldemort hissed. "You deserve much worse."

Snape didn't have his wand, Harry suddenly remembered, snapping to his senses. "Snape!" He tossed his own wand to his once hated professor, for it seemed that Snape would need it more than him, though he knew that however impressive Snape's skills might be, they were no match for Voldemort.

"Harry, no!" Snape grabbed the wand and rolled it back to Harry's feet whilst struggling to stand up. He swayed and Harry noticed his left arm, severed at the elbow. But for some reason all Harry could think about was that Snape had called him by his given name.

"Oh how touching," Voldemort mocked. "Your sacrificial intentions are lovely, but I regret to inform you that neither of you stand a chance." Voldemort leered and raised his wand toward Snape.

_"Consumebaris magicum conmure centrum." _A jet of rust-colored light shot towards Snape, knocking him back to the ground, the air crackling around him. But nothing else happened.

Snape lurched over to Harry's wand, which had ended up on the floor between them. Harry presumed Snape must have changed his mind about fighting back. Grasping the wand, Snape pushed off the ground with his right hand, swaying into a standing position. He lifted the wand.

"Ah ha ha!" came a distinctive laughter from the left. Bellatrix. "You wouldn't dare, Snape! Or if so, you are a greater fool than I'd ever imagined."

The Death Eaters roared in laughter. What did she mean? It wasn't like Snape hadn't already blew his cover. Harry glanced at Voldemort to see if he might do something, but the dark wizard was just standing there, looking most conceited.

Paying no heed to the taunts, Snape raised the wand toward Harry, who was struck with doubt. Maybe Snape wasn't on their side after all and had killed Nagini for other reasons? But Harry could see no hatred in Snape's eyes, just pain. Pain and—he couldn't tell what else, but there was something else. Would he kill Harry? Maybe that was the plan? But Voldemort had to do it, Dumbledore had said so.

Rather than attacking, though, Snape raised the wand and in a gentle swoop, circled it over his head. "_Expecto Patronum." _A silver doe leapt out of the wand and walked toward Harry, whose eyes widened. The doe patronus. Could it be the same from the forest? This one was just as clear as the one he remembered, so distinct you could see the eyelashes hooding the eyes. Before Harry had time to think about the significance, he heard a soft, apologetic voice Harry had never known Snape to use before. "It is time, Harry."

Harry broke his gaze away from the doe and looked up at Snape. He was startled to see Snape how much worse he looked all of a sudden, now bent over, leaning heavily with his right arm on his leg, with an expression of agony on his face. For a moment Harry wondered if it could possibly be concern at Harry's imminent demise, but he noticed how Snape's hair was clinging to his face, soaked in sweat, as if it took every ounce of his energy to stand there casting that patronus. As Harry looked into the dark eyes he got a sense of urgency and Snape nodded him on. Harry nodded back. He turned to Voldemort and could feel energy radiating from the doe as it joined Harry at his side.

A bark of laughter came from Voldemort. "If you were going to choose one final spell to cast, that has to be the absolute worst choice. Whatever you think it's going to do, it is nothing against my powers. Oh yes, I know what it is. _Love_." Voldemort spat the word out as if it were the most fowl word created. "You want to show one last sign of affection before this all comes to an end, didn't you. How sickeningly sweet, Snape, you're a greater fool than I imagined. It's clear that loony old coot brainwashed you. Pity. I thought you had potential." Voldemort turned to address the crowds, sweeping his arm through the air. "No matter, for when I defeat Harry Potter, this world will be so full of darkness no one will be able to produce that disgusting spell or any other pathetic signs of weakness."

"Love is never a weakness," Harry found himself saying, and at that moment felt immense strength and love wrap around him and his fear dissolved. He felt it from his friends standing near, wanting to support him. He felt it at the thought of his parents, his godfather, Dumbledore, and all others who sacrificed themselves for the light. And although he still didn't really understand Snape, he could tell it was there with him, too, proven in the silver doe that seemed so strange coming from him and yet so familiar.

Harry stepped forward. They would be victorious today. "Darkness can never overpower light, and love, love is the brightest magic of all. It was love that led to your downfall the first time, and love again will defeat you today."

"Oh you are very mistaken, Harry Potter. Now," Voldemort cackled, "prepare to die."

Voldemort raised his wand and screamed "_Avada Kadavra!"_


End file.
